


What is My Name

by SimiXiamara1



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 15:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16705141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimiXiamara1/pseuds/SimiXiamara1
Summary: Armand has not seen his Master in five hundred years. He needs to be reminded who is really the master and who is the pupil.





	What is My Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBratsPrincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBratsPrincess/gifts).



> Post: Queen of the Damned
> 
> A NSFW fanfiction written by me - Armand and Marius’s first meeting alone after the death of Akasha - Trigger Warning for Blood, BDSM - Pairing is Marius&Armand

Of course he knew that the ancient immortal still lived. He had read it upon the pages of The Vampire Lestat. But to actually see him. Weakened, yes, hungry. But alive. Marius de Romanus. And here, at the compound where the end of Those Who Must Be Kept was met. How long since he had laid eyes on this child of the millenia? Armand sent Daniel along with Louis. They had a lot of catching up to do. So Armand stood alone on the terrace with him. He stood straight-backed, regal, like anyone of proper breeding should.

“Marius.” The name tasted wrong. It didn’t fit. He watched the blond haired male turn towards him. The look on his face nearly broke Armand’s heart. It was clear what he expected. Amadeo. Armand clenched his jaw to fight from screaming. He was five hundred years old, god damn it. And unlike many others, he had not taken a ‘Great Rest’. He had lived every year like the next. Yet staring at this man, this infuriating man, made him feel seventeen again. He wanted to run to him, to throw his arms around him and weep like a child. He wanted to cry out all the pain he had suffered. All the loss. All the anger.

All the betrayal.

“Armand,” Marius’s voice was still as smooth as Armand remembered. He had listened when Marius had spoken at the congregation, of course. He had done little else. He could do little else than stare at the man he had presumed dead for nearly his entire life. Armand watched Marius turn towards him. “Oh, my sweet boy.” Armand trembled. those words nearly did him in. He clenched his teeth tighter, actually biting down on his tongue and filling his mouth with immortal blood. “Look at you.”

“Yes. Look at me, Marius,” Armand replied softly once he had swallowed back the bile and the blood in his mouth and his tongue had healed. “Look at me closely. I am not your ‘sweet boy’ anymore.” He watched as Marius approached him, an unfamiliar look in his eyes. Armand found he had trouble, on occasion, remembering his mortal life, but he could not remember having seen that look before.

“So I see.” Ah, there it was. Disappointment. Armand’s look hardened slightly. Marius stopped directly in front of him, forcing Armand to look up at him. He hated that. He hated that he had to look up to nearly everyone he spoke to. Standing at five-six, in this modern day, most people that he encountered were taller than him.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Armand protested. “You can’t blame me for growing up.”

“I don’t see a grown up. I see a boy playing grown up,” Marius countered, arching an eyebrow over one eye. “Only a child rebels against their father and refuses to refer to him in a proper manner.” Armand narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched the older blood drinker.

“And a real father would never abandon their child for five-hundred years,” Armand spat. Though before he could say anything else, he found himself on the ground. His jaw ached, and he looked up. He had never even seen Marius raise his hand, yet he knew that Marius had struck him. He reached up, gripping his jaw and got to his feet. There was a bit of blood on his chin, the strike having caused him to cut his lip on his fangs. “What the hell was that for?!” Armand demanded, glaring at him.

Marius reached out, gripping him behind the jaw by the throat, locking his hand in place and pulling Armand in and up for a rather brutal kiss as Marius devoured the blood running down his chin and coming from his lip. Armand grunted in protest, pressing his hands against a marbel chest and pushing. He couldn’t move, of course, he was no where near Marius’s strength. He was held there and kissed for as long as Marius wanted to before he was thrust backwards again, and he stumbled back to the floor.

“Don’t test me, Armand,” Marius warned, his voice now much harder than it had been only moments before. Armand looked up at his Maker, anger on his face as he pushed himself up from the floor for the second time in less that five minutes. “I have far less patience now than I did when you were mortal.”

“No, don’t you test me, Marius! You can’t continue to treat me like I’m that child you left behind!” Armand shouted, fisting his hands at his side. “I want answers!”

“Why can’t I when you insist on acting like that child?” Marius demanded harshly. Armand turned away from him. “What is your reason for throwing a tantrum now? Now of all nights? This should be a meaningful reunion. Why are you insisting on pitching a fit like a child if you claim not to be one?”

“Because I was alone!” Armand shouted, rounding on him, eyes rimmed in red as he lost control over his delicate temper. “You left me alone! I was terrified! Tortured! Starved! And where were you?! I thought you were dead!” He shouted, not caring that nearly every other inhabitant within this compound was likely hearing his tirade. Including the vampire who had done all those things to him. Armand didn’t care. “For centuries! You left me alone! Yet you took him! Rescued him from the ground, fed him your blood, told him your secrets!”

Marius’s eyes were hard. “You were no longer my child. Why would I have come to you? You had no interest in anything that I had taught you. You could have left on your own. You did not. You made that choice to become Armand. I did come to Paris once. After I healed. I came to Paris, and I watched you.” Chills ran down Armand’s back as Marius’s tone spoke only volumes of disappointment and anger.

“I watched you go hunting. Alone. Kill the innocent. Alone. All the lessons I had taught you, you had chosen to forget. Why would I have tried to save you? You were already lost.” Armand flew into a rage. He charged at the older man, beating on his chest. He knew he was acting like a petulant child, but for the moment, he couldn’t help it.

“I trusted you!” Armand shouted, feeling an iron grip on his wrists spread his arms to the sides and held him that way, spread eagle as he thrashed against the hold. “Let me go!” he screamed. “I trusted you and you betrayed me!”

“No, Armand. You betrayed me,” Marius growled, holding Armand’s arms out so that he was unable to resist him. He leaned in, biting down on Armand’s throat as he thrashed, and Armand cried out. He couldn’t see the life that came to Marius’s eyes at the sound, only knowing that Marius drew harder from him. Armand felt sure that Marius intended to kill him. To take back the Dark Gift as had been done to the Queen mere hours before. He fell limp against him.

“There now, that’s better,” he heard Marius say. He looked up at the other male, nearly all the fight and strength drained away in the Blood.

“Damn you, Marius.” Armand said softly.

“Still the petulant child. You called me that before when you were mortal. Do you remember what happened when you called me by that name?” Marius asked of him. Armand laughed bitterly at the memory. Oh he remembered quite well. Some things you never forgot. He’d been lashed that night. The leather belt from his own waist had been used. The metal buckle cutting into his legs as it had done on other occasions.

“Yes, I see that you do. But perhaps you do not remember well enough, and need to be reminded.” He lifted Armand up, and though he struggled, his accumulated strength was still nothing in comparison to that of his Maker. He was still as a child to him, especially given that Marius had drained him of several pints of blood already. He was carried through the compound, with little regards as to whom they might be distubing.

Armand found himself suddenly flying through the air then, landing on a bed covered in red velvet. Because of course, what else would be on a bed intended for Marius? He tried to turn, suddenly finding an arm across his shoulders and then a hand coming across his ass. He wore modern clothing, and so it muffled the feeling, but not by much. He felt the strikes from Marius’s hand through the denim pants that he wore and the long shirt. He struggled, to no avail. Marius’s hand kept coming until Armand finally cried out in pain.

“Stop!” he yelled. He pressed his face against the bed, listening to the powerful heartbeat of the immortal behind him. He shuddered slightly, realizing then what Marius had noticed several strikes ago. Armand was aroused. He was suddenly stripped bare, the sound of ripping fabric all to keen to his ears and was now feeling a breeze across his battered backside. He felt Marius’s hand against him, cool, soothing against the throbbing pain. He hissed, fighting the urge to press back against the hand. No, damn it. He was not a child anymore! He tried to push back against the hold. He was smacked across the bottom again, this time there was more than blunt force, there was sting as skin met skin.

Armand cried out again.

He was pulled down, moved like little more than a damn doll and his shirt was ripped as well. He lay bare on the edge of the bed, Marius now gripping the back of his neck, forcing his face against the bed. And then it was not skin, but something else that came across his backside. And it was metal.

“Disgusting. Five centuries and still a few swats across your backside has you writhing like a schoolboy for a quick fuck.” Marius’s voice was harsh, and something stirred inside of Armand and he whined softly. He felt blood running down his legs. Marius had taken the iron poker from the fireplace to use as a cane. Because of course, wooden canes would do very little to immortal skin. He cried out as it came across his rear and legs again and again. He was thrashing, writhing against the bed as blood was sprayed with nearly every strike.

“Are you enjoying this Armand?” Marius demanded, reaching between his legs to grip his hard erection, causing Armand to groan. He was no longer fighting against Marius’s hold, found that he had no will to move. This deep part of him enjoying the treatment from his Maker.

“N-no,” he said softly, which earned him several more strikes.

“Don’t lie to me, Armand,” Marius insisted smoothly. He leaned down, dragging his tongue along a long, blood-filled welt across Armand’s leg and over the curve of his ass. “I can taste it in your blood,” he stated softly. “Your arousal. Even if I couldn’t see this little blood filled cock, I could smell it in your blood.” He flipped Armand over onto his back, staring down at him. He raised the iron rod, and lowered it to rest across Armand’s chest. The Spike at the end dug into the flesh of his shoulder, causing Armand’s head to tilt back as he screamed. Armand could feel his flesh tearing as Marius dragged the poker down his chest, creating one long cut from shoulder to naval.

He was breathing rapidly, blood running down his chest. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, even as Marius drew the rod lightly over his erect length. His breath hitched in momentary fear, and he watched Marius close his eyes and inhale. He had caught the scent, and Armand could see that it excited him.

“Marius…” Armand whispered before crying out in surprise as he applied pressure to the rod still touching his cock.

“Ah, there is that name again. Have you still learned nothing, Armand?” He reached down, again circling his hand around the other’s cock and squeezing tightly. Armand’s head fell back, he bit his lip, and drew yet more blood as he fought to keep from yelling again. He arched up slightly against his Maker’s grip. Armand then felt as Marius pressed the blunt handle of the iron rod against the ring of muscles beneath Armand’s erection. And then he felt it penetrate him. Armand cried out again, arching against the rod now pressed inside of him.

“What is my name, Armand?” Armand found he could barely focus on Marius’s voice as he pulled the rod out and then shoved it back inside. He cried out again, though couldn’t help wanting it to continue. Dear gods he didn’t want it to stop. “What is my name?” He withdrew the rod again, shoving it back inside, Armand found the pool of heat that had gathered in his abdomen suddenly release as he came with a scream.

“Master!”

Marius smiled, slowly withdrawing the bloodied rod and leaned down, gently lifting the rather shredded body of his fledgeling and leaning down to lick each and every cut until it healed. by the time he was done, Armand was trembling, whimpering, and all too eager to welcome Marius’s embrace as he lifted him, craddled him against his chest.

“There’s my boy. I wondered if I would ever see him again.” Armand responded groggily as Marius’s lips met his own and he remained curled up in Marius’s lap until the darkness of the sunrise took him.


End file.
